


To be Gay or Not to be Gay, That is the Question.

by AmazinglyAwesome_A



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crack, Funny, Gen, High School, my first attempt at crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazinglyAwesome_A/pseuds/AmazinglyAwesome_A
Summary: Professor Alex almost never has a perfect class. It is made worse on inspection days. I mean, what could go wrong when you put together a humourless Santa Clause, Shakespeare, Flappy-Bird, and a metal arm.





	To be Gay or Not to be Gay, That is the Question.

It was the 6th period, I was 10 minutes late (not entirely my fault), I forgot my glasses in my class _(FINE, that was my fault)_ , and the cherry on top, I had my class inspection that day. I was running in the hallways, praying to whatever God(s) who was looking down at my predicament, "Please let the inspector be late."  
The kids were surprisingly quiet when I skated into the class _(yes, a 27-year-old just skated 3 meters into the class. Beat that, impending middle age! I still got the moves)_. They gave me a once over and one of them _(Terry, I believe)_ said,

"Sir, the left side your face is whiter than usual." 

I blanched at this statement. By all means, I am very not white. I am pale and there is a big difference. The cheek! I felt slighted and opened my mouth to reprimand the poor boy when I accidently taste chalk. I quickly deduced that there was some truth to Terry's statement. I quickly muttered a thank you and cleaned my face with the tissue I had. 

I ran through my mental notes and prepared what I had wanted to say. Everything was perfect. My presentation was ready, and I was feeling confident. Then something dawned upon me.

"Guys, where's the inspector?" 

A myriad of 'He is late, sir' erupted in the rather small class, accompanied by shrugs and shaking heads. I really didn't have to run all the way from the year 11 class to the Year 9 class, which in our school, feels like half a kilometer. 

"No matter sir, you can start class. The inspector can come in later", Will supplied.

_(Mind you, William Shane Sienna Mystrade is a girl. Sometimes people call her Sienna (usually resulting in something painful or embarrassing to the offender), but most of the time everyone sticks with Will. Attendance every morning used to be a pain until we shortened her name. Although it is funny when she is called upon onstage or when some poor middle school kid has to fetch her and they read each and every word. But I digress.)_

I started my lesson, teaching my students the details of Shakespeare and his (in my humble English Doctorate opinion, Wonky) words. 15 minutes later, as I was teaching the students about Ophelia’s death, the door opens and the inspector arrives.

He was potbellied, had a long white beard that would make Albus Dumbledore jealous, wore a red coat and pants with a white undershirt and wore spectacles whose lenses looked like they were the bottoms of soda bottle. In other words, he looked like Santa Clause with Glasses and missing the hat and the joyfulness. He barely acknowledged me with a sharp nod, and took his seat at the back of the class. 

As the class went on, he kept on tapping away on his iPad. I paid no mind.  
Soon I began teaching about Shakespeare himself. Mr. Inspector kept on typing away. I decide to ignore the incessant tapping.

I eventually reached the general Q&A session I have with my students at the end of every class. Mr. Inspector still kept on typing away, never looking up. Now I feel disgruntled. What on earth was he doing?

Will, who sits at the back, leaned over and sees what the Mr. Inspector was doing. I saw that Will, Tony and James were moving around, trying _(and failing, at least not enough for me)_ discreet, but what they were up to was lost on me as I got distracted by a question from Amy. I answered the question in an unnecessarily loud voice. Mr. Inspector typed away. 

James raised his prosthetic hand, which promptly falls and hits the floor with a bang. Mr. Inspector _(and everyone else in the class)_ jumped, the tablet flipped on the table, and everyone saw that Mr. Inspector has a high score of 98 in Flappy Bird _(Impressive!)_. He quickly covered the tab and whirled to Jamie, angrily. 

"Young man, would you care to explain why you disturbed the class with that contraption of yours?" 

"I..I'm sorry sir, my arm must have been loosened by accident and it must have fallen off", he said. 

Pshh, accident? So that’s what they were up to. I saw a glint of steel and guessed what must have happened. Tony _(Ever the mechanic)_ probably handed Will a screwdriver and she must have had loosened Jamie's arm. Nevertheless, I felt rage build in me when Mr. Inspector called his arm a contraption. No one has a right to call something that is there to help a contraption. Swallowing it down, I asked, 

"Alright James, ask your question now." 

His eyes widened. I suppose they had not planned for the possibility that they actually have to ask a question. 

"Actually, sir, Tony here had a question." 

Before I could have replied, Mr. Inspector butted in, pointing at Tony, 

"Well then, boy, ask!" 

Tony glares at Jamie and stands up and asks, 

"Sir, you told us that Shakespeare's works were addressed as letters to a young man," he stops. I gestured him to continue. 

"My question is, 

“Was Shakespeare gay, or was he bisexual?" 

I was blindsided by that question. We had quite a few students who have come out, so none of the teachers minded this. I was thrown into a loop when Shakespeare was involved. Mr. Inspector was a whole other story. Mr. Inspector turned a lovely shade of red and he looked so scandalized that I would have laughed if not for the slightly grave situation. Will buried her face in her hands and Jamie looked up to the heavens as if praying for someone to save Tony. 

It seemed that Jamie's prayer was heard, as the bell rang at the very moment the inspector opened his mouth.  
The Inspector rushes out of the class, muttering something about damned daisies, sinners and hell. 

I turned back to my class and said, "Well, that’s that. Will, next time, be more subtle and Tony, improvise better." I walked out of the class, and as the children poured out for their break I overheard,

“Tony, that question was stupid. Even for you. The only reason we’re not killing you for that is because you managed to scandalize the homophobic arsehole inspector. I hope he finds out the little present we will give him”

I stifled a giggle and walked out. Whatever it will be, Will’s pranks are amazing. Later I learned that apparently that inspector had been kicked in the arse by mysterious ghosts. Jamie did not have his arm for the rest of the day. _Wonder what happened._


End file.
